We recently connected with Maya Shaw and have shared our conversation below.

Maya, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. We’d love to hear the backstory behind a risk you’ve taken – whether big or small, walk us through what it was like and how it ultimately turned out.

The biggest risk I’ve ever taken was giving up everything I knew — my family, my friends, my hometown, the love of my life and moving to New York City, a place where I didn’t know a single soul, just to follow the music burning inside me.

I knew it was a risk. Of course I knew. But the fire in me was stronger than the fear. I felt like nothing could stop me anymore.

Since I was a child, I knew I didn’t fully belong in the country I was born in. I used to spend every summer with my cousins in California, and even back then, I didn’t understand why I felt so light, so alive, so at home. The moment I landed in the U.S., my spirit lifted. Something magical happened inside me, something unexplainable. I just knew: this is where I belong.

That feeling only got louder as I got older. My father, my grandfather, they’re both American. I carry that legacy in my body, in my blood. I’ve always known New York was where I needed to be. In my dreams, in my vision, it was always New York. So I decided to make it real. I moved.

In Israel, I had always felt stuck. Even the people closest to me told me I didn’t belong that my energy, my spirit, my manners, even my fashion, were too international for where I was. I woke up every morning with the same mantra running through me: “You are ready to perform today. At every moment.”
I never knew when my moment would come, so I promised myself to always be ready for it.

I also carried my mother’s story in my heart. She’s a phenomenal painter, one of the most gifted artists I’ve ever known but she never pushed her dream far enough. She told me, over and over again, how much she regrets that. And that pushed me even more. I refuse to live a life of almost. I want to give everything I have to this dream.

Leaving wasn’t just about career. I left the man I love. We’ve been in a long-distance relationship for over a year now. We love each other deeply — and we’ve created a new kind of bond, one where we both grow, side by side, and respect each other’s paths. But it’s still hard. I left behind so much, my love, my family, my home. And now, I’m creating a new kind of family here in the city of my dreams. I’m building connections, I’m building home withing the people I collect and it’s all coming from within.

The truth is, I chose myself. And that was something I had never done before. My whole life, I was always there for others my friends, my coworkers, my partners, my family. I’d meet someone, and within seconds, their world would become mine. I’d forget about myself entirely. But now… it’s different. I’m still in love. I’m still soft. But I’m here for me first. That shift changed everything.

Of course, not everyone understood. Parts of my family, like my brother and uncles, don’t believe in this “movie life” I live. They believe in more traditional paths. They couldn’t see that there are creative ways to succeed, ways that don’t look like theirs. I’m stubborn, though. I don’t give up. Even when it hurts, even when I cry for days, I always get up stronger.
We’re all afraid daily. But fear is about where you place your focus. Sometimes I get scared thinking something bad might happen back home while I’m far away. And coming from Israel, where a new war seems to happen every other week (half-joking, half-true), that fear is real. There were moments when I felt like I had no place to come back to. But I’ve learned how to sit with that fear, to make peace with it. Because I’m here for something bigger than all of us. I believe God gave me the strength for it.

The dream I’m chasing is so vivid in my mind. It’s not abstract I see it like a movie:

I’m on a massive stage, in front of thousands of people.
They’re clapping and singing the words I wrote.
They’re playing my melodies.
They look at me with hope and love.
I see one girl in the crowd.
She’s young. She’s me.
And I sing directly to her.
She cries. I cry too.
And together, we sing my song.
I’m wearing white.
There are flowers and trees all around.
Love is everywhere.
The world feels whole.
People are kind.
And all we do is spread goodness.
That’s the dream. That’s what I wake up for. That’s what I moved for.

I used to silence the dreamer in me. Over the years, I tried to shut her up, because the world around me didn’t support dreaming that big. I was always a dreamer, but the environment around me was often stronger than I was. Until one day… it wasn’t. I decided to go for it. And the minute I did — the minute I stopped asking for permission, people started following. They felt it. Because I was finally doing this for me.

Like in my song “God Won’t Come” — it’s all about that moment. The moment when I stopped waiting for someone to save me, and realized: I am here. I am enough. This is mine to live.

And sometimes, life throws me signs, little cinematic moments that remind me I’m on the right path. Like the time I was heading to a big audition in NYC. I was early, so I took a cab. Then the cab got stuck in traffic. I jumped out and ran to the subway. It was only two stops, but then that train got stuck on the bridge from Brooklyn to Manhattan. For half an hour. I was worried to be late. A man on the train was yelling the whole time. The whole situation felt intense, surreal, like maybe something bad could happen.
And yet… I stayed calm. I had this deep feeling: “If I’m running late, it’s for a reason.”
I called the pianist and told him I was on the way. I stopped fighting the moment. I reminded myself: “What’s meant for me, will find me.”
And it did. I arrived a little late, but the audition went beautifully. That performance led to my premiere. Everything unfolded as it should.

That’s what this risk has taught me: trust your gut. Honor your dream. Don’t let fear dictate your path. And most of all, choose yourself. Not just once, but again and again.

Because when you do, something magical happens:
You stop chasing home.
You become it.

Maya, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I’m Maya Shaw. A melody in motion. A dream that refused to stay quiet. A woman who walked away from everything she knew to become everything she is.

I didn’t choose this path. It chose me. The moment I opened my mouth and sound came out, I knew. I wasn’t just here to sing. I was here to live artfully. My life is the show, and every step I take is part of the music. I don’t just make songs. I make worlds. I make you feel.
I see melodies in color. I hear emotions before words. I write the kind of songs that sneak into your chest, sit beside your loneliness, and then lift you right out of it.
I am not the kind of artist who waits to be discovered. I discovered myself. And I offer that discovery to you in every note, in every performance, in every line I write.
For years, I was told my voice was “too high,” “too strange,” “too much.” But in the summer of 2021, I heard Lana Del Rey and something cracked open. She helped me fall in love with my voice again, especially the high range I had been taught to hide. Since then, I’ve never apologized for how I sound. I own it. I use it like a sword. Like silk. Like spellwork.
People call me the melody woman. Some say I live life like a movie. I say of course I do.
This is cinema. This is drama. This is soul.
I write the soundtrack to the moments you can’t explain the ones you feel in your bones.

When I create, I don’t just write for myself. I write for the ones who lost their voices along the way. For the girl who was told she was too much. For the boy who never cried out loud. For the dreamers who forgot how to believe. For the ones who are too soft for this world and too strong to break.
I offer songs. I offer co-writing. I create soundtracks, albums, stories emotional portals. If you work with me, you’ll feel it: I give space. I listen. I’m fast, intuitive, and brutally honest. I help people get to the point, to the heart of what they’re trying to say. I help people fall in love with their own truth. And I help bring it to life.

What sets me apart? I don’t think in terms of “better.” I think in frequency. I’m tuned to something ancient. Something future. My melodies are fingerprints no one else can write what I write or sing how I sing. And I don’t compromise. If a melody comes to me in the night, I treat it like a divine message. I don’t shape it to fit, I let it stay wild.

I’ve built this life from scratch, with my bare hands and my open heart. No shortcuts. No safety nets. Just faith, grit, and a little glitter. People call me naive. I say: thank you. I am a dreamer. I am a romantic. I am a believer. I believe in love, in magic, in timing, in truth. And above all, I believe in music.
I’m proud of every hard-earned moment. I’ve cried in bathrooms and smiled on stages. I’ve doubted myself, and then got up and did it anyway. My journey has taught me patience. Humility. Fire. I don’t want everything now — I want everything real.

And when I leave this world, I want to leave behind a legacy of hope. The kind of hope that turns a lonely teenager into a legend. I want to give people what Freddie Mercury gave to me, permission to be unapologetically themselves.

So that’s who I am. That’s what I do.
I make beauty out of chaos.
I sing truth until it blooms.
And I will keep doing it, until my very last breath.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

When I was 9, my parents got divorced. But before that, I’d hear them fighting constantly, especially when I was in the shower. I remember standing there, soaking wet, thinking, “They’ll probably divorce today, I’m sure of it.” But every time, they didn’t.

Then one day, after convincing myself everything will be fine, that they won’t get divorced… they did.

That day shook me. It was complete chaos, and it marked something deep inside me. From that point on, I started believing that if I let myself hope for the best, something bad would happen. So I flipped it, I told myself that thinking negatively was safer. That if I expected the worst, maybe the worst wouldn’t come.

It took me years to unlearn that upside-down mindset. To realize that protecting yourself with pessimism only lowers your energy, your beliefs, and your ability to manifest joy.

Now, I know: believing in the good doesn’t make bad things happen. It just gives the light a chance to come in.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

Yes , something many non-creatives often don’t understand is that being an artist isn’t luck or just fun and games. In too many parts of the world, people still believe art shouldn’t be valued for, like it’s less serious, less worthy. But I want to speak on behalf of the artists I know across the globe.

We invest just as much, emotionally, mentally, physically, as anyone working in tech, law, or holding a third academic degree. And I say that with full respect. The only difference? We’re building it ourselves.

I am the creator, the builder, the singer, the performer, the writer, the manager. I’m the overthinker and the spontaneous spark. I am the product and the producer. I build my brand the same way the biggest companies in the world do — except it’s not a product I’m selling, it’s me. And that’s even harder than anything else I can think of.

Just like anyone working toward a promotion, I spend countless hours days and nights doing everything I can to move forward in this field. The only difference is, there’s no path laid out for me. I pave it myself.

Artists don’t work less. We work differently. And we deserve to be valued, respected, and paid, not because we’re lucky, but because we work incredibly hard.

It’s heart. It’s risk. And it’s time the world sees that clearly.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.mayashaw.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mayashawofficial/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mayashawofficial
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/maya-shaw-028298315/
• Youtube: https://youtube.com/@mayashaw?si=ALd6DyDv59gtu67F
• Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/mayashaw-music

Image Credits

the first first photo – Julia Sky
1. Photographer – Sarah Katherine, Make up – Lian Azran Shmuel, Dress design – Noa Rawitz
2. Photographer – Lee Kudanov Elson
3. Photographer – Sarah Katherine
4. Photographer – Lee Kudanov Elson, clothe designer – By Liv Handmade
5. Photographer – Lee Kudanov Elson, clothe designer – By Liv Handmade, Make up – Lian Azran Shmuel
6. Photographer – Lee Kudanov Elson, clothe designer – By Liv Handmade, Make up – Lian Azran Shmuel
7. Photographer – Sarah Katherine, Make up – Lian Azran Shmuel, Dress design – Noa Rawitz
8. Photographer – Sarah Katherine, Make up – Lian Azran Shmuel, Dress design – Noa Rawitz